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“Your Honor, as of this morning Tim Scott is no longer employed by Scott Robotics. His termination is effective immediately, and he will be instructed to return all—”
“Again, not a matter for this court,” the judge interrupts crisply. “You’ll have to sort that out among yourselves.” He nods again. “We’re through.”
You look at Tim as you stand for the judge’s departure. “What does it mean?”
The muscles in Tim’s cheeks are throbbing with fury. “It means we need to get you out of here.” Turning to Maines, he says urgently, “Stall them.”
“I’ll do my best. But legally—”
“I don’t care about the law,” Tim snarls. “Just about getting her away.”
You make it to the courtroom doors before any of the other lawyers have a chance to intercept you. Outside, Tim pushes aside one TV camera when it blocks his way and you do the same with another. And then you’re in the car, moving.
“What just happened?” you say, still shocked.
“An ambush,” Tim says bitterly. “I don’t believe they came up with that offer this morning. Renton will have been working on this for days.”
“Can he really force you out?”
Tim shakes his head. “My people will all walk out before that happens.” But he doesn’t sound completely certain.
“Mike must have betrayed me,” he adds. “They couldn’t fire me unless he agreed to stay and hold the reins. When I think of everything I’ve done for him—”
“And me?” you interrupt. “What does this mean for me?”
Tim looks across at you. “They’ve agreed between them to wipe all your data,” he says as if explaining to a child. “In other words, to erase your memories.”
“So it’ll be as if I have amnesia?”
“Not quite. Your memories are what give you your sense of self. Effectively, you’re a construct, assembled from your texts, your voice, video clips…Everything will have to go.”
You’re reeling. Those lawyers had sounded as matter-of-fact as if they’d been discussing a business contract. “You mean—I’ll die?”
“Well…You’ll no longer have any sense of being alive, put it that way.”
“And then he’ll turn me into a shopbot,” you say as the realization dawns, recalling Renton’s lawyer’s words. “An animatronic salesclerk.”
It was only a few weeks ago that you’d been thinking about throwing yourself under a truck. But that had been from a mixture of shock and self-loathing. To have your life taken from you now by order of a court seems unimaginable.
And Danny—what will this mean for him? You can’t leave him to the tender mercies of people like Principal Hadfield and Sian. Or Tim, for that matter.
“What Renton doesn’t know is that I have a backup,” Tim’s saying.
You turn to him eagerly. “A backup of me?”
He nods. “In my study. Six dedicated servers, with a separate power supply in case of outages. Even if they wipe you, I’ll be able to start again.”
“But that won’t help me, will it?” you say slowly, as what he’s telling you sinks in. “I’ll have been completely erased.”
“True. But the project will live on. And we’ve still got forty-eight hours.” He puts his hand on yours. “We need to use them wisely.”
“Of course,” you say, relieved. “How? Do you have a plan?”
Leaning forward, he says intently, “If there’s anything—anything at all—that might relate to Abbie’s disappearance, you have to tell me now. Even if it makes no sense to you. Then I’ll follow it up after you’re gone.”
You stare at him. You thought he’d meant, Use the time to save you. But he’d simply meant, Use it to find Abbie. To complete the mission.
My God, the monomania of this man. Sometimes he reminds you of Danny, obsessively lining up his engines, unable to think of anything but that one, urgent need.
You gather your thoughts, determined to tell him so, to let all the hurt and resentment flow out—
But once again, you don’t.
Somehow you need to find a way to survive this. And if Tim won’t help you, you’re going to have to figure out a way to do it by yourself.
68
At home there are more TV crews. Paparazzi, too, running forward, holding their cameras up to the car window on motor drive as you pass, flash-flash-flash.
Inside, Tim immediately turns on the news. COURT ORDERS ROGUE ROBOT WIPED is the scroll. On the screen is Alicia Wright, the PR woman Tim hired to replace Katrina.
“It’s the nature of prototypes that they exist to highlight problems. That way, fixes can be found,” she’s saying smugly. “Scott Robotics is pleased to have found a solution to this issue, so we can move one step closer to full production.”
“Will the next generation of cobots have the potential to be violent?” the interviewer asks.
“John Renton’s vision for these machines is that they’ll have the personality of a high-end personal assistant: self-effacing, cheerful, attractive, and obliging. But definitely not volatile. As he said to me only this morning, nobody needs another wife. But a good assistant is very hard to find.” Alicia smiles.
“My life’s work,” Tim says in disgust. “And he’s going to turn them into geishas.”
You shudder inwardly as you think how narrowly you escaped being ordered into Renton’s custody. Can’t rape a robot, am I right? At least you’ve been spared that.
Now Lisa’s lawyer’s on the screen, reading a prepared statement.
“…The Cullen family are not anti-technology,” she’s saying. “We are not anti-progress. This was about honoring my sister Abbie’s memory, and her life. We think it right that Scott Robotics should now pay for the suffering they have caused. But the entire sum will be donated to Haven Farm Ranches, a charity working with those affected by autism.”
Something stirs in your brain. You’ve come across that name recently. But where?
Then it comes to you. Dr. Eliot Laurence’s Wikipedia page. It was on the list of charities he consulted for.
While Tim makes some calls to key staff, you look up Haven Farm Ranches. More smiling faces, more shots of fields with learning-disabled people working in them. But nothing you can see that will help you.
You go to a section marked GALLERY. There are hundreds of pictures—fundraisers, mostly. You scroll through them, not even sure what you’re looking for. Endless shots of gala evenings, ball gowns, half marathons, sponsored skydives…
And then, so sudden you almost miss it and have to go back to check, a face you know.
Mike. Wearing a tuxedo and handing over a check. Dr. Mike Austin, co-founder of Scott Robotics, passes a donation of $18,000 to Dr. Eliot Laurence, founder of Positive Autism.
You click on a menu item headed OUR METHODS.
Here at Haven Farm Ranches we embrace the whole person, not just the disability. Following an approach called Positive Autism, we use good diet, outdoor work, and holistic therapies to reduce stress and manage anxiety…
Mike met Dr. Laurence at a Haven Farm fundraiser. Dr. Laurence consults to Haven Farm Ranches.
That’s the connection to Abbie. It must be.
TWENTY-THREE
We heard the terrible news about Danny from Mike and Jenny. Tim got a call to go straight to the Benioff Children’s Hospital—Danny’d had some kind of seizure and they were doing tests, he told Mike later by phone.
It was several days before we heard the words childhood disintegrative disorder. We immediately looked it up, of course.
CDD has been described by many writers as a devastating condition, affecting both the family and the individual’s future. As is the case with all pervasive developmental disorders, there are no medications available to directly treat CDD, and considerable controversy as to whether any treatments or interventions can have a beneficial effect.
Those of us with kids held them a little tighter that night.
It was a surprise to see Tim back at work on Monday morning. “It’s better to keep busy,” he told people. But people who had meetings with him reported that he was often distracted by whatever he was reading on his computer.
“He’s using PubMed to research his son’s diagnosis,” someone spotted.
That night Sol Ayode had to go back into the office late to fetch some papers he’d left behind. It was after ten P.M., and as we were in a relatively calm part of the development cycle there was no reason for anybody else to be there. As Sol walked toward his desk, though, he heard someone say, “Tim Scott, you are the cutest man in the world.”
He could see through the open door of Tim’s office. The only light was coming from a work lamp, so it was hard to make out who was in there—he could only see silhouettes. At first he thought it was Abbie, standing in front of the desk, with Tim crouched in front of her. But then he realized it wasn’t Abbie, even though it was speaking in Abbie’s voice. It was the A-bot.
“Tim Scott, you are the cutest man in the world,” it said again. Then, “Though you can also be a bit of a dork sometimes.”
Tim was weeping.
As Sol tiptoed away, he heard the A-bot saying it over and over again. “Tim Scott, you are the cutest man in the world.”
69
